(no subject)

Down in the lower, darker regions, there was business for just about anything.

Atton waved a cloud of smoke away from his face, wishing that the music wasn’t blaring out quite so loud and heading up to the high balconies that overlooked the dance floor and leaning over the balcony.

“Well, hey, sugar,” A light, female voice and an arm around his shoulder. “Now, aren’t you a little bit lonely? Here all by yourself?”

“Well, I would be dancing, but, you see,” Atton turned around, grinning at the Twi’lek woman. “I have somebody I need to see.”

“Not a lady friend, I hope?”

“More like a slicer.”

“Well, perhaps I can help you with that,” The Twi’lek smiled. “For a price.”

“Isn’t there always a price? You’re a slicer?”

“No. But I know somebody who is. Best slicer in the underworld, I’d say. And he has other talents that I’ve found useful.”

“Naked talents?”

“No. More bloody.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Do you?”

Atton considered this.

“Not really. Nor do I really care, I just want a slicer. Without any bloody-ness.”

“His name’s Leyo. Leyo Gantl. You can find him in the rooms above Gorror’s Cantina.”

“Why, thank you.” Atton grinned broadly, turning away.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere until you pay me.”

Atton didn’t need to turn to know there was a blaster at his back.

“Pay you?”

“Not much. Just a couple of hundred credits, I think that’s fair.”

“And here I thought you only wanted me for my amazing good looks.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t have noticed you if you hadn’t been looking so broody.”

“I was not looking broody.”

“We’re getting off topic. Payment, now.”

Atton muttered, tossing her some credits and striding off down the stairs. He was sure he heard a shout of ‘hey, I said a couple of hundred!’ as he left. But he didn’t really care.

“Schutta.”

(no subject)

Atton’s hand flew to his blaster. He had entered the expansive rooms above Gorror’s Cantina, expecting to find some typical underworld slicer, all humming, rusty computer equipment and swivelly chairs.

”You.”

There was definitely rusty computer equipment, humming and swivelly chairs there.

“Jaq,” Leyo Gantl grinned broadly, standing up. “Long time no see. Take your hand away from your blaster, before I have to take drastic and ... probably quite violent ... measures.”

“Don’t try and threaten me, ‘Leyo’.” Atton snarled.

“I think I will. You went soft, let a Jedi schutta get inside your head, I don’t have to fear you anymore, Jaq,” Leyo stood, grinning wolfishly. “I take it this isn’t a social visit.”

“No, it isn’t. How’d you guess?”

“Intuition. What is it you want, Jaq?”

Atton raised his eyebrows, watching Leyo carefully.

“That’s it? No rants, no raves, not even a tiny bit of name-calling?”

“I don’t rant at traitors. I kill them,” Leyo replied blankly. “Or sometimes do business with them.”

Atton snorted, shaking his head and grinning.

Leyo arched one eyebrow, settling down into his chair again.
“Don’t do that. It’s pushing the limits of fantasy to think that I would fear you - ...”

“Still fear me. You used to quake when I was angry. Remember?” Atton said pleasantly.

“I remember. You were different then. Now you’re just weak. I can see it in your stance, your tone, the way you walk. What have you been doing since you betrayed the Sith, Jaq? Drinking yourself into a stupor? Doing menial jobs for minor crime lords? Or perhaps you’ve been doing some,” Leyo snickered. “Humanitarian work. Taris is beautifully broken this time of year. Whatever you’ve been doing, it’s taken it’s toll. Worn you down.”

“Lecture on my personality aside, I want you to make me a fake ID.”

“And why would I do anything for you?”

“Consider it a favour for an old friend.”

“You’re a traitor, Jaq. Not a friend.”

“Then do it for money.”

Leyo smiled gently.

“Go and rot, Jaq. I don’t want your money.”

Atton didn’t argue. He simply left.

(no subject)

Atton really should have known better than to wander down the darker, more secluded streets of lower level Coruscant. It wasn’t the darkness that wasn’t the problem - Atton and darkness had an understanding of sorts. It was the fact that he was being followed.

He could hear their footsteps, just faintly, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out where they were. In the light, perhaps, there might have been a haze from their stealth fields to give them away. In the dark, there was no way of seeing them.

There was a low crackling sound, a flash of electricity, and one by one they appeared around him. A rag-tag group of scarred, eyepatched, iron-pipe-carrying, fist-clenching, growling, muscle-flexing, tooth-rotted, laughing, foot-stamping criminal thugs. And Leyo, who Atton was unsurprised fitted in perfectly with them.

He moved his hand towards his blaster, promptly cut off by two men grabbing him from behind. Leyo quickly disposed him of his weapons, tossing them aside.

“How could you ever believe I was frightened of you, Jaq?” Leyo sneered, and a moment later Atton’s head snapped to one side with the force of Leyo’s blow.

Atton remembered remarkably little of what followed. It lasted only minutes, while Leyo and his companions layed into him with clubs, fists, iron pipes and feet, making sure not to harm him too much. Superficial bruises, no broken bones. He reached for the Force, and couldn’t quite use it.

After five minutes, they left, leaving only Leyo.

“I could have taken you back to the rooms and reminded you just how you used to be. You always knew how to make them bleed. I would have made you wish you were dead,” Leyo said quietly. “I took pity on you, because that’s what friends do. You owe me one, Jaq.”

Leyo left sometime after, leaving Atton to stand and stagger away to a filthy motel near a river of what he suspected was sewage, and tend to his wounds.